


could you be the one to see me

by orro



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crossdressing, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orro/pseuds/orro
Summary: Chris would be satisfied with a normal date with his long distance hook up slash boyfriend. But then Victor shows up in a pink dress and refuses to give him a clear answer about why.





	could you be the one to see me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azriona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/gifts).
  * Inspired by [H i d d e n i n S t. P e t e r s b u r g](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/396771) by latigreblanche. 



> Written for azriona for the FTH event. Really, thank you, because I've been wanting to tackle this idea and this was the perfect chance to do so. I hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> Inspired by latigreblanche's beautiful [artwork](https://latigreblanche-draws-things.tumblr.com/post/166809746518/h-i-d-d-e-n-i-n-s-t-p-e-t-e-r-s-b-u-r-g). I subscribe to yoi's happy no homophobia land so I went a different way with Victor's motivation for the dress.

Chris stares at his phone, sorely tempted to add in a mention that he’s on a date, but instead he sighs and settles for saying he’s enjoying sightseeing in St. Petersburg. Victor is late, as always, and he banked on that extra fifteen minutes to update his social media with photos of the fountain. His butt is slightly wet from where he nearly sat on a puddle but otherwise it’s a lovely day and he’s about to have an even lovelier time whenever his sort of boyfriend decides to show up. 

He pulls at his curls, tempted to change his look up again, though he really likes the blond top he’s rocking. It doesn’t really matter, but he feels stagnant, and that’s a sure fire way to lose a competition before he’s even in the city for it. 

It’s summer and he’s on his vacation. He can’t be stressing out about this. Chris has plenty of time for that during the rest of the year. He stands up and stretches, checking his phone once more before stowing it in his back pocket. It’ll ring if Victor remembers that he can call and text. 

He’s about to start meandering around when someone catches his eye. Chris doesn’t even bother to hide how he’s staring because Victor is too distinctive, from his long silver hair to his confident gait. 

All Chris can think is ‘pink dress pink dress Victor is in a pink dress and god he looks so good in that pink dress.’ 

That gives Victor the chance to daintily step up to him, slightly towering over him in the heels that he’s navigating as smoothly as he dances on the ice. He’s practiced this, at some point, and it’s another tidbit of information that Chris can’t even begin to understand. 

“Hi, darling,” Victor says, chirping brightly. 

“Vic-” Chris starts then stops, struck by the fact that they’re in public and Victor’s calves are beautiful in the black heels he’s strutting in. It’s a literal fight between his dick and mind, and he already knows this is a battle he’s going to happily lose, especially as Victor’s hip shifts to the side so he can pout. 

He wants to touch him and he has to fight to keep his hands at his side. Maybe he’s had sex with Victor before, maybe they’ve felt one another up, but it’s not going to be the same when Victor is in a cute dress that is begging to be groped.

“We agreed to go out on a date and I wanted to look nice for you,” Victor says. 

Chris tries to swallow down his arousal and he fights to keep from choking when it doesn’t work. He nods, and there’s no part of him that feels shame at the triumphant gleam in Victor’s eyes. 

Victor hooks his arm around Chris’ and shifts the little hand bag he’s got on his shoulder, which Chris didn’t even remotely notice. Every detail of him is perfect, and Chris would need a whole day just to take them all in. He’s so thankful he gets to do exactly that. 

“Where do you want to go to first?” Victor says, as if he isn’t pulling Chris along in every sense of the word.

They don’t have any plans for the day, and they wind about the city, poking into shops that catch their interest and laughing at some of the more unique wares they find. Victor wrinkles his nose when Chris suggests something classy like an art museum while Chris rejects Victor’s suggestion of going to see a movie. 

There’s an unspoken agreement that they won’t talk about skating but it breaks like it always does. They can understand one another, the sacrifices and the work that goes into their shared careers, the way it consumes them entirely. 

And it’s hard to explain to other people just how tragic it is when a beloved skate cozy breaks, just as Victor tells him about how he accidentally ripped right through it with the blades from his skates, then decided to just shred the whole damn thing. Chris howls at the thought of Victor’s coach finding him amongst a pile of shredded thread, all the more the way Victor distorts his pretty face into a mimicry of his coach’s face. 

“Okay, I need to ask,” Chris finally cracks as they’re window shopping through a flea market they stumbled across. Victor makes an interested noise though his attention is still on the ornaments and dolls. “Why?” Chris asks. 

“Why what?” Victor repeats, batting his eyelashes. He’s exaggerating but it’s still attractive. 

“This,” Chris says and he puts his hand over Victor’s hip, the bottom of his palm on Victor’s ass. 

Victor smirks and doesn’t shy away. 

“Weren’t you surprised?” 

“Yeah but-” 

“Then I won,” he says, one finger to his mouth. He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to Chris’ lips. Victor has such a cute little turn to his lips, so pleased with himself, and Chris drinks it up. “I told you, I wanted to look nice for you. It’s not that mysterious.” 

“If you say so,” Chris says, because even as enchanted as he is, Victor won’t meet his eyes the entire time he speaks. His look darts away, not malicious suspicious, but enough that Chris has doubts about what Victor is plotting. 

Victor puffs his cheeks out in a pout but quickly turns away to find a new distraction. Chris debates demanding some kind of answer but he can’t find a way to manage it especially when Victor is being deliberately charming and lovable, sidling up to him and pressing innocent kisses to his cheek. It’s easier to let himself be swayed back into the flow of browsing and shopping. 

Chris finds a spectacularly bedazzled jacket, and Victor claps as he models it, both of them knowing that Chris’ coach will groan at Chris’ increasing shamelessness. It’s so gaudy and bright, covered in alternating silver and gold metallic fabric, that Chris can’t help but fall in love with it. He needs this in his closet, because even if he can’t properly skate in it, he can make an entrance at any club with how much it shines. 

But their photoshoot is cut short when the owner of the stall glares at them and snaps at them to buy their goods and get out. Chris can’t understand her Russian but it’s not hard to guess what she’s saying. Victor looks properly terrified, so they pay and run away, waiting until they’re a safe distance away to collapse against one another and laugh. 

They’re brainstorming what kind of routine would go best with the abomination jacket when Victor realizes the time and announces it’s time to find food. It’s a heated discussion about what to eat because summer is the time to cheat but they also can’t go so overboard that getting back into competition shape becomes impossible. 

They take their turnovers, piping hot from the fryer, and walk through the park as they chat and eat. At one point a huge spray of meat juices spew from Victor’s bun and the about face he did to avoid getting it on his clothes make Chris laugh so hard, they get odd looks from the other park goers. 

Victor finds them a bench hidden away by a smattering of trees and bushes, not so private that they’re invisible, but sheltered away enough from the rest of the park that it does feel like they’re alone. 

They’re back on the topic of which juniors are moving up to the senior division and they’re ranking them by how scandalous they’re going to be as seniors when Victor starts to shiver.

“Are you cold?” Chris asks. 

“I”m Russian,” Victor says loftily before giving another shiver. 

Chris snorts and pulls his jacket off, wrapping it around Victor’s shoulders and patting him as he does so. Victor happily draws his jacket around himself, his eyes alight with something that Chris wishes he had a name for. He does this to Chris all the time, leaves him speechless and aching but so satisfied at the same time. It’s not a surprise Victor has the world in the palm of his hand. 

They’re contently quiet for a few minutes, sitting hand in hand, absently watching what they can see of the other park goers. Victor’s eyes follow every dog he sees and Chris only knows this because he’s watching Victor more than anything else. But even when Victor catches him, he only smiles, and gives his hand a fond squeeze. 

“I like that no one bothered us today,” Victor says. “This should happen more, just you and me.” 

“Yeah,” Chris says before something clicks. “Is that why you did this?” Chris says, flicking at the hem of Victor’s dress. 

“Who knows?” Victor answers softly. He let’s go of Chris’ hand so he can take a strand of his hair and inspects the ends, absently picking at it. “I guess sometimes I don’t want to be the ‘me’ that I usually am. It’s nice to go out without being recognized. Does that sounds about right?” 

Chris doesn’t think it’s a lie but he’s not sure it’s the whole story. But he gets the feeling that Victor doesn’t even know what he wants. 

“Didn’t you notice that no one stopped us today? We’re in Russia, St. Petersburg, and no one recognized rising figure skating star Victor Nikiforov,” Victor says. 

“I do so love your modesty,” Chris says. He hadn’t noticed that. A part of him also realizes now that no one stopped Christophe Giacometti, rising Swiss figure skating star. But he understands Victor’s point; he’s in his home country and he’s been named the future of Russian figure skating since he was a junior. 

Victor huffs and shifts in his seat so he can point his finger in Chris’ face. 

“Not a single person stopped us. No one was expecting Christophe Giacometti to be showing his lovely lady friend around Russia. We have a beautiful day, a normal date, and that’s because no one was expecting me to stick a dress on and take a walk through the city with my boyfriend.” 

“You’re crazy but I like the way you think you sound completely normal,” Chris says, taking a strand of Victor’s hair and kissing it. He thinks it’s one of those things that take a genius to come up with but seem so simple afterwards. 

He can recall Victor mentioning how much attention he attracts, even when he’s just out and about walking his dog. Most of the time he’d been jealous of that, so he’d just absently listened in that way that all good friends do, where he cannot sympathise or understand but he can be a willing ear to hear him rant his frustrations out. 

“I...still don’t think I understand,” Chris says slowly, not surprised to see Victor’s face fall. He turns to face forward with a sigh, the perfect image of despondency. It’s probably accidental but they’re no longer touching now. “I can tell it means a lot to you though. I’m sorry.” 

“This is why I didn’t want to explain it,” Victor says. “It feels ugly. And I don’t know. I don’t want to be ungrateful. This is what I want.” 

Chris still can’t find what to say. He knows there's a lot that he shouldn’t say, such as he’s jealous of all the attention Victor receives, how he wishes he could be in Victor’s place, how even though he admires and adores Victor as much as he possibly can, sometimes he hates Victor for being at the top of the field. Instead he sits there awkwardly, feeling as though his ugliest thoughts are visible to Victor right now, at a time when he clearly doesn’t need to hear such things. 

Chris settles for wrapping an arm around Victor and squeezing him, trying to be supportive without words. He doesn’t know if that helps but Victor settles into his embrace so it probably doesn't hurt. 

They sit in silence for a while, enjoying the way night slowly settles over the park, absently voicing whatever stray thought passes through their minds. They really should do this more. 

“Come back to my place,” Victor says.

It breaks the comfortable silence but Victor has slipped his hand to the soft part of Chris’ inner thigh and he is not complaining at all. He’s been waiting to hear those words all day. He can’t wait to be in between his thighs with that pink dress scrunched up Victor’s middle. 

The walk back is brisk, both of them eager for more, though what changed in Victor’s mood to go from melancholy to horny Chris will never know. He’s a little curious but a mostly okay with not knowing. They barely make it to through the front door of the apartment complex when Victor is already trying to pull Chris into a heavy make out. They make it to the stairwell, where it’s private for now. 

And Chris won’t say no but he wants to get to the part where he rips Victor’s pink dress off from him. 

“Can’t you wait till we’re in your apartment?” Chris asks between gasps and Victor runs his fingers over his cock, the tease unbearable. He knows about Victor’s like of sex in public places but he would have preferred the park over this. Then again, he’s rock hard, so it’s not like he hates this. He’s just surprised, as always when he’s around Victor. 

“But I want my cute boyfriend now,” Victor says and licks his fingers. 

“Oh,” Chris exclaims. He likes this way too much. Everything Victor does goes right to his groin and it’s too sharp but he doesn’t want to stop any of it. 

Victor finally takes pity on him and takes him up the rest of the stairs to his apartment. Chris waits until the door is closed and locked behind them then pushes Victor up against the wall, feeling him up the way he’s been aching to all day. He can’t get enough of him and judging by the deep groans coming from Victor, he feels the same way. 

Victor makes to pull his dress off when Chris’ stomach drops.

“Leave it on,” Chris stammers out. 

Victor stops then smirks at him, but lowers his arms. He covers Chris with his body as he leans down to whisper into his ear. The weight of Victor feels nice, especially the way he pushes him into the bed, and Chris shivers as Victor’s breath hits his throat. 

“Do I look that cute?” Victor asks. 

Chris runs his hands over Victor’s body, feeling the skin of his thighs and the smooth fabric of the dress. He doesn’t know what he likes so much about this other than it’s so fucking good and he’s never going to be able to have sex normally again, not after Victor Nikiforov has ruined him for other men. 

He wants to say something crude but instead he nods. Somehow it’s the right answer, because Victor flushes, and turns away with a pretty little gasp. 

Instead he hikes his dress up and pulls his dick out of his pretty white panties, which is unsurprising at this point but Chris is still delighted to see them. 

“You were so ready for me today. God, you’re so hot, and you were ready for this, weren’t you?” Chris pants as Victor unbuttons his pants to get his cock out. 

“I wanted it to be good for you,” Victor says, his sentence breaking as he gasps in pleasure. 

The second Chris’ cock is free he pushes his own up against him, rubbing them together. It’s a mess of hands and dicks, there’s no coordination between then, but that doesn’t matter when it feels so good.

Chris comes first, crying out as Victor’s hand strokes him just right. He pants for a moment then moves to bring Victor to climax, relishing the way Victor follows soon after with a pretty little sob. They stay like that for a moment, breathing heavily and pressed together, caught up in the aftershocks of pleasure. 

“Carry me,” Victor says and Chris obliges, taking him in his arms and setting him on the bed, curling himself around. 

They’re still sticky and he’s going to regret not cleaning them up later but this is good for now. Victor is warm and in his arms. This is very good. 

“You stained my dress, you brute,” Victor says, eyes closed and comfortably in Chris’ arms. 

“I’ll get you a new one to wear,” Chris says. 

“Promise?” Victor asks. 

Chris wonders at what color they would get next. Maybe silver to match Victor’s hair or perhaps something brighter like a blue or a red. 

“Definitely,” Chris says and it’s the right answer because Victor reaches up to kiss him, pretty and pliant and content.


End file.
